


Am I Losing Faith In My Own Anger

by doublecheese



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Complicated Relationships, Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz Has Anger Issues, Feelings Realization, Friendship, M/M, So far..., Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28765944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublecheese/pseuds/doublecheese
Summary: Hawk had always wanted a proper friend. He’d wanted it with Demetri for the longest time. Because yeah, they hung out and they played video games together and they talked about shows and comics and podcasts, but there had always felt like there was a wall between them. Like Demetri thought that just because he could say more words per hour with a larger amount of syllables he wasbetteror something. That’s such fucking bullshit.----Hawk has some feelings to work through. Demetri does too.
Relationships: Demetri/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz & Moon, Miguel Diaz & Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz
Comments: 13
Kudos: 43





	Am I Losing Faith In My Own Anger

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from 'I'll Make You Sorry' by Screaming Females because titles are hard, man, and i really like that song.

Seeing Demetri for the first time after the school fight makes Hawk angry. Like, really angry. 

He’s walking with fucking Chris and fucking Nate and some chick who should be talking to _him_ says ‘Hey, Demetri’ and Hawk wants to punch him in his fucking face. 

Chris calls him ‘’Met’. 

Chris is a fucking pussy traitor. 

They line up, facing each other, and it feels like the moment before a tsunami where the tide pulls out.

Assface and Chris do some stupid posturing shit next them, but Hawk doesn’t give enough of a shit to pay attention, he’s thinking about how much he wants to throw Demetri out a window. And then he’s thinking about Miguel who got thrown off a balcony, so maybe he only wants to kick the shit out of Demetri. Maybe he wants to break his nose and drag him around by his hair. He wants him too tired to fight back and his face all bloody. He wants him to hurt. 

‘The security isn’t enough to protect your scrawny arse.’ Hawk knows that he doesn’t have to be loud to be intimidating. He reckons his voice isn’t suited for it anyway, too high and too girlish. 

Demetri won’t stop shifting his weight from foot to foot, but when he speaks his voice is steady. 

‘I don’t need security.’ There’s a sort of surety to his intonation that makes the hot, coarse feeling building in Hawk’s stomach flare. 

Demetri begins to lean away from him, as if expecting a comeback or a blow and Hawk wants to do that for him. Wants to fulfil that expectation and hurt him somehow. He can feel tension building between his shoulder blades as he continues to stare at Demetri. He feels poised and angry and—

‘Everything alright here?’

Fucking Counsellor Blatt. 

‘Oh! Pfft.’ If Hawk’s voice is high then Demetri’s voice is in rehab. ‘We’re all buddies here.’

Demetri steps forward, using the momentum he’s been building up, and swings his arm around both Hawk’s and Mitch’s neck. The contact makes him want to scream so he grits his teeth and pumps Demetri’s chest with the flat of his palm. 

‘Yeah.’ It comes out like the dark shifting of snow that precedes an avalanche. 

Then it’s eye contact. There had been a not insignificant amount of time where Hawk hadn’t been able to look anybody in the eye at all, Demetri excluded. It was too committal, so direct. To the soft version of him, the before version of him, looking people in the eye had felt like gift wrapping them ammunition for a big gun conveniently named ‘Eli Moskowitz Is A Weird Little Freak, Let’s Get Him For It.’

Sometimes it still felt like that, but Hawk shoved that shit deep down because he wasn’t fucking soft and he wasn’t a fucking pussy and he would make whoever dared look him in the eye pay for it. Or some badass shit like that. 

Even so, Hawk is the first one to look away. 

‘Don’t you all have somewhere to be?’

Hawk’s face grimaces into a scornful smile as he feels Demetri’s arm begin to slide off him. Demetri steps behind him and Hawk strains his ears for any indication of where he is. Not being able to see him feels wrong, vulnerable. Like he could be punched in the back of the head any moment. With a last lingering look at Chris, Hawk walks away. 

\----

’Met, say’s Hawks mind. 

‘Shut the fuck up.’ Says Hawk, rolling over in bed. 

‘Met. ‘Met. ‘Met.

Hawk had never given Demetri a nickname. Their relationship hadn’t really been like that. They’d been friends, sure, but mostly out of necessity rather than any liking of each other. Hawk had always felt like Demetri liked having someone around to talk at, rather than to. 

Sometimes, privately, as Demetri had started on another pseudo-intellectual tirade about the fatuity of their bullies of some bullshit, Hawk had thought that if Demetri had been a bit less lanky and a lot more sporty, he would have fit in with their assholes of their school no problem. 

‘Met. ‘Met. ‘Met. 

Hawk had always longed for friends. He’d watched as boys at school laughed with each other and fucked with each other, but in that bro way where there wasn’t really any maliciousness and the expectation was that whatever you did to your mate he was gonna return it twofold. Yeah, there was a pecking order at school, even among the rich cliques, but Hawk had always thought that he would prefer to be the second to biggest asshole than second to the wimpiest asshole. 

And that was the fucking thing, wasn’t it? He’d always been second to Demetri. They’d never had the equality that warrants a nickname. A true nickname, a proper nickname, not the kind that they gave out at the school or the dojo, not like ‘Lip’ or like ‘Assface’. Not even a badass nickname like ‘Hawk’. Because yeah, ‘Hawk’ is a badass nickname, no fucking question, but a proper nickname is born out of familiarity and affection. 

‘Met. ‘Met.

He rolls over again and grabs his phone off his bedside table, flinches at the light when he turns it on. 12:14 AM. Jesus fuck. Letting the phone drop down by the charging cord, he kicks his blankets off, hoping the chill of the room will give him something else to think about. 

Hawk had always wanted a proper friend. He’d wanted it with Demetri for the longest time. Because yeah, they hung out and they played video games together and they talked about shows and comics and podcasts, but there had always felt like there was a wall between them. Like Demetri thought that just because he could say more words per hour with a larger amount of syllables he was _better_ or something. That’s such fucking bullshit. 

‘Met.

Being cold doesn’t take his mind off it, it just means he's cold. He does a little wriggle that he’s thankful no one will ever see and pulls the blankets back up to his chin. 

Hawk was able to admit to himself that sometimes Demetri had been harder to deal with than the bullies. Because with Demetri there was always the persisting hope of the possibility of true friendship. The idea that maybe if Hawk was witty enough or smart enough he would be able to pace Demetri in conversation and get on the same level as him. Maybe they wouldn’t have the same casual physical contact as the other guys, but Demetri certainly never had a problem with the verbal banter that dudes liked to engage with, and back then Hawk didn’t like physical confrontation anyway. 

How long had Chris even known Demetri? Four months? That’s no fucking time at all.

It had been the disappointment that used to get to him. Whenever Demetri had laughed at him or told him he was being an idiot for suggesting that maybe they shouldn’t let themselves get pushed around. 

‘Met. 

He certainly wasn’t getting pushed around anymore, that’s for fucking sure.

Fuck, he just wants to go to sleep. 

Hawk’s mouth is dry in the early-morning way when he opens it, so he closes it again and does that thing where you move your tongue around to get some spit circulating in there. 

‘’Met.’ He flinches at the sound of his own voice and then swiftly turns so he’s lying face down on the bed with his face completely smothered in a pillow. 

He lays there until the heat of blush on his face is replaced by a burning in his lungs and he has to come up gasping for air. After a moment he turns flat on his back and stares unseeing at the ceiling. 

Mother fucking cunt bitch ass shit. 

Unconsciously his right hand strains into a fist, the tension flowing up into his back and making his shoulder blades squeeze together and raise him off the bed a little bit. His teeth are beginning to ache from how hard his jaw is clenched. He wishes he was at the dojo, or that his mother would let him have a punching bag in the garage. 

A strangled scream breaks past his lips without him meaning to and in an instant he's out of bed and pacing his room. 

His mom had always told him that if he ever needed to tow a bogged car out of mud he should never use a chain, as the risk of it breaking and causing more damage isn’t worth it. He feels like the fucking chain right now, strained and tense and stretching. Read to fucking snap. 

In a swift movement he pulls his shirt off and drops to the floor, catches himself on his forearms and the tips of his toes, keeps his body long and engaged. It’s a perfect plank and he can already feel his abs burning. 

He holds it till he can’t and then some, and he can’t bring himself to care that he’s making his sheets all sweat when he crumples back into bed, finally exhausted enough to sleep. 

\----

Hawk is casually excited when Sensei Kreese brings out the mouse, but he’s properly thrilled when he sees the snake. He does feel kind of bad for Bert though, because Bert is only a little dude and he’s still learning to be tough.

Hawk thinks, when Sensei takes the mouse from Bert, that Sensei will feed Clarence to the snake and make Bert do some drills and the lesson will be about prioritising allying yourself with strong and dangerous people. It’ll be about learning to renounce the deserving weak in order to keep yourself powerful. It’ll be about sacrifice, ultimately. 

But then Sensei says, ‘It’s okay to object,’ and Hawk knows that _no, it’s definitely not_ , and then Sensei says, ‘Does anyone else object?’ and Hawk thinks _ah shit._

He looks to the corner of his eye and he sees people raising their hands, mostly the younger ones, like Bert. Hawk knows enough about bullies— _Sensei Kreese isn’t a bully. Why would he even think that?_ —to recognise the ingenuine nature of Sensei’s tone, that, coupled with the fact that he honestly doesn’t really care about Clarence all that much, means that he doesn’t raise his hand. He doesn’t know what Sensei is planning, but he knows the right answer to this question and that he won’t be caught by the sharp end of the stick this time. 

‘You’re off the team.’ The force of Sensei Kreese’s voice is scary, even from a few feet away. ‘Get out!’

‘But—’ Bert’s voice is small. Bert’s everything is small. If Sensei wasn’t such an intimidating figure it would have seemed almost like a caricature, the way he loomed over Bert. 

Hawk’s mouth is hanging open and he can’t help but stare as Sensei continues to yell. 

‘I said out. Get!’ 

Bert looks sad as fuck as he walks away with his head hanging.

Hawk gets it though, is the thing. He doesn’t know if he agrees with it, but he gets it. Sensei wants the strongest students in his dojo. He wants to trim the fat. It was about sacrifice, in the end. No mercy. But at the same time, what had these kids ever done wrong? It’s not like they gave up and went and joined Miyagi-Do. They’re not fucking traitors. Maybe not wanting to kill a mouse makes them pussies, but is getting rid of paying members really the best idea right now?

The goal is to win, after all. To remain a top predator. Pretty fucking hard to remain top predator if you get all your fangs pulled and claws removed. 

Hawk knows that Sensei Lawrence—fuck not Sensei Lawrence. Johnny? No, that’s fucking weird. Lawrence. Hawk knows that Lawrence used to listen to Miguel about stuff concerning the dojo. Miguel used to go into the back office sometimes during lessons and they would come out just _looking_ like they’d had a heart to heart or some shit. 

Hawk had overheard once. He’d been sparring near the window and heard Miguel go, ‘ _Try not to be as much of an arse to Charlotte right now. Her aunt's been going through some hospital stuff.’_ and then Lawrence had said _‘Why the fuck should I give a shit about Charlotte’s aunt’s hospital shit?’_ and Miguel is kind of endlessly patient when he wants to be so he had said _‘Well, you give a shit about Charlotte, don’t you?’_ and then Lawrence had grumbled for a moment and gone quiet. 

Charlotte hadn’t been favoured in any way during training, but Lawrence hadn’t purposefully been a dick to her like he was to everyone else either. 

Hawk tells himself that he has no delusions about what’s gonna go down when he goes into Sensei Kreese’s office. He already understands _why_ Sensei did but he just… he just wants to agree with it. That’s all. Because he wants to agree with it pretty desperately, if he’s gonna be honest with himself. Hawk likes Sensei Kreese, and he really, really doesn’t want to have a reason to dislike him. 

When Hawk walks through the door of the office, Sensei is clipping a cigar. Hawk is pretty sure that, even in a building as ratty as this one, you’re not supposed to smoke inside a rented business property populated primarily by children. 

The look that Sensei levels him with makes him feel vulnerable. 

‘Are you sad to see your little friends go?’

Hawk kind of hates that Sensei Kreese is more keenly perceptive than Lawrence ever was, and he wholly hates the fact that he visibly hesitates even more, but he knows the answer to this question too. 

‘No, Sensei.’ 

‘Go on,’ Sensei shrugs nonchalantly, like Hawk really can say his piece without consequences. It makes Hawk feel a little better. ‘You can speak freely, son.’

He hesitates again. 

‘Is this the right time? To be making cuts?’ Hawk can see Clarence’s enclosure sitting to his left. The bedding has some lonely little mouse poos in it. ‘We’re already down members after the school fight.’

Sensei shrugs again. 

‘This is addition by subtraction. A true cobra feels no sympathy for it’s meals.’ Sensei spits like he has venom in his mouth and Hawk looks away, ashamed that he has to have this explained to him even though he already understands it.

‘Do you have a problem with that?’

Hawk is very good at knowing the answers to questions, it is another matter to truly believe the things he says. He resolves himself though, and he fucking _makes_ himself mean it when he says, ‘No, Sensei.’

‘Good.’

But, god, Hawk wants him to say something else. Something reassuring or guiding or, fuck, mentor-ish, he doesn’t fucking know. He just wants something more, so he persists. 

‘I just don’t understand the plan. With Miyagi-Do shutting down, we might be able to get some new recruits.’ Hawk doesn’t let himself think about the possibility of his old friends maybe coming back to Cobra Kai. He’s not emotionally cognizant to even begin to unpack how he would feel about that. 

‘And we will, in due time. But first we’re going to need to strengthen our core.’ Sensei closes the cigar cutter for emphasis and it makes Hawk want to flinch. ‘With Diaz out, we’re gonna need a new champion.’

_And that’s what Hawk was looking for._

A proud sense of elation grows in Hawk as Sensei Kreese continues to speak, and he can feel himself standing up taller and squaring his shoulders with the strength of it. 

‘Someone with no fear… and no mercy.’ 

_Yes_ , Hawk thinks, _yes, yes, yes._

He does his best to keep his smile to an appropriate smirk, although he wants to grin wide enough to show off his molars and then he nods, because Sensei made him agree.

\----

Hawk rides that wave of accomplishment all the way from training to Miguel’s hospital room. 

‘ _El Serpiente_!’ Nicknames a born from affection, so Hawk made sure to give Miguel a fucking good one, even if Aisha had called it ‘ _A bit on the fucking nose, don’t you think?_ ’.

If Hawk knew any more about surfing he’d probably say that this is the point where he wipes out and the anger and vitriol that had been briefly kept at bay comes flooding back, down his nose and throat, burning like salt water. Because fucking Sam is standing next the Miguel’s bed. 

She has the fucking audacity to timidly say, ‘I’m gonna go.’ like she wasn't fucking directly responsible for Miguel being in that bed. 

He wants to grab her as she walks past him, knock her over and make her hurt. Miguel shouldn’t be in a fucking hospital right now. He should be out, with Hawk, because Miguel is Hawk’s first proper friend and it just fucking unfair that this has happened to him. 

‘You have some nerve coming here, after what your boyfriend did to him.’

He wants her to start the fight, because he’s not just gonna outright hit a girl. 

‘I don’t care what you think, I just want to help.’

Fuck, isn’t that just rich coming from her. What the fuck has she ever done to help?

‘I’m pretty sure you’ve done enough, princess.’

Then Hawk remembers that Miguel is like, five feet away and probably isn’t having a great time listening to his best friend and ex shit talk to each other. Miguel is always the priority at the moment, and Hawk is done with her anyway, so he walks into the room without looking back and hopes Sam feels at least a sliver of the same frustration he feels when he’s denied a fight. 

Because Sam comes from Miyagi-Do, and she claims to be on the defence, but Hawk knows what the squint in her eye and the tension in her torso means. He knows that whether she likes it or not she’s fucking chomping at the bit to get her hands around someone’s neck and squeeze. 

It’s fucking weird to see Miguel in the hospital bed, hooked up by a finger to a heart rate monitor and shit. His hair is longer than he’d usually keep it, messier too. Hawk thinks about the extra strength hair gel he usually carries with him and deeply regrets leaving his bag in the car when his mother dropped him off. 

‘Hey, bro.’ Hawk goes in for the man handshake thing with Miguel and Miguel doesn’t even raise his fucking arm to meet him. Hawk hates this. Hates what’s happened to him, but there's no way in hell he’s showing any sort of negativity in front of Miguel right now. Miguel doesn’t need of whatever shit is going on with Hawk right now. 

‘I like the spot.’ He doesn’t. It smells like disinfectant. He pointedly doesn’t watch as Sam walks away.

Hawk does his best to be his regular self for Miguel. They’re both hesitant to steer the conversation in the direction of any heavy shit, so it’s mostly musings on the taste of hospital food and how Miguel misses wearing pants and ‘ _Damn dude, your hair is really getting long. Do you have to put that shit in a ponytail when you’re at home? Wait, holy fuck, Hawk, do you have a secret man-bun?’_.

Hawk lightly hits him in the shoulder for that one and the brief flash of panic he feels over possibly hurting him is drowned out by Miguel’s sudden and boyish laughter. It’s really, really good to hear him laugh. 

Then Hawk asks a stupid fucking question.

‘So who’s been visiting you?’ It’s an off the bat question. He’s searching for topics to extend the conversation so he doesn't have to leave. 

‘I mean, not that many people, really. No one… no one from the dojo.’ Miguel goes quiet for a moment. ‘A few randos from school, I guess. Uh,’ And Miguel hesitates here in a way that makes Hawk think he isn’t going to like what he says next. ‘Moon’s come around a few times. Which is cool of her considering we aren’t really friends.’

Moon. Fuck, Moon. Hawk still hasn’t gotten over Moon. He’s not mad that Moon’s been visiting Miguel, because that is such a Moon thing to do, but thinking about that makes him think about their breakup and how fucking angry he is at himself for letting it happen. 

‘Yeah—’ Hawk’s voice cracks and he hates himself for it. ‘Yeah. That sounds like Moon.’

He looks down at his hands and thinks about how soft Moon’s hair was when she let him fidget with it. He thinks about her teaching him to braid just because she wanted to be able to go to school and say, ‘ _My boyfriend did my hair; isn’t he the sweetest.’_. If anyone else had called Hawk sweet he would have broken their nose, but with Moon it was okay. 

Hawk sniffs and ducks his head a little, slouching into the poorly padded plastic chair. 

He can feel Miguel looking at him. It makes the hairs on his arms raise and his toes curl.

‘People at the dojo haven’t been visiting because Sensei Kreese has a really intense training schedule. They’re too busy.’

It’s not the nicest thing to say, but Hawk needs to say something so that Miguel will stop staring at him like that. 

‘Sensei Kreese.’ Says Miguel, his tone closed off now.

‘Yeah. Sensei Kreese.’ 

‘He’s not my Sensei.’

Hawk tenses in his slouch and looks up at Miguel. His shoulders are going to be killing him later. 

‘He should be. Look at what listening to Lawrence did to you.’

Miguel jerks his head away like Hawk actually hit him. Hawk persists. 

‘You showed mercy, man, and look where it fucking got you. Sensei Kreese would never ask you to put yourself in a position where this was even possible. Strike first and hard. It’s all about preventative measures.’

Miguel still isn’t looking at him. Hawk persists.

‘Lawrence is a fucking loser who thinks that just because he preaches mercy he’s more morally right than Sensei Kreese—than _us_. The real world doesn’t give a shit about morality, Miguel, you’re not better than others just because you show _mercy_.’

‘It’s not just about fucking morality, Hawk!’ Miguel _yells_ and Hawk freezes because never in his life has he had that sort of ire directed at him from Miguel. 

Miguel is looking at him now and it’s like his stare has the gravitational pull of a black hole. It seems like the room is bending around them so that Hawk is stretching out, out, longer until all he can focus on is Miguel and his eyes and his words. 

‘It’s not about trying to be more righteous or whatever the fuck! It’s about—it’s about not being an asshole! I don’t want to be an asshole! I don’t want to hit people with their back turned or get stuck in a headspace where I think everything and everyone is against me! Fuck, man, I don’t want to attack my friends over a fucking _Yelp review_!

Hawk feels like he is vibrating in his chair. Why the fuck did Miguel have to bring up Demetri. That’s a fucking dick move, considering he knows what happened at Moon’s party. He wishes Miguel could step off that bed and they could fight this out with their fists until they were both too tired to be mad at each other anymore. He hates this talking bullshit. But he can’t hit Miguel because Miguel is probably the one person in the fucking city that Hawk truly cares about and who doesn’t hate him on some level, so he opens his mouth and—

‘He’s been visiting me, you know? More than you have.’

Miguel hasn’t stopped looking at him. Hawk feels like the steam in a kettle with no lid.

‘He’s brought me comics and—and he told me what happened during the fight.’ He trails off, seems to deflate a little. ‘I just wish—fuck man I dunno.’

And his head finally drops and Hawk can breathe properly. 

‘I just wish it was like when I first got here. Not with—with the bullying stuff, that sucked. But with the friend stuff. I like us all as friends.’

Hawk sneers.

‘Yeah, fat fucking chance of that ever happening. After what that pussy did to Cobra Kai? After what he did at the party and the school? Fuck him, man. He’s a fucking dickhead. Always has been.’ 

‘You don’t mean that, Hawk.’

Hawk is on his feet and the shitty hospital chair is flying back and hitting the corner of the open door to Miguel’s room. 

‘ _Yes I fucking do._ ’ It comes out like a hiss because Hawk knows he doesn’t have to be loud to be intimidating and he miserably needs to intimidate Miguel into dropping this right now. 

Miguel just looks kind of sad and it sucks like nothing else. 

‘Yeah. Okay, man.’

There’s a lull where Hawk just stands there an seethes as Miguel looks down at the stupid patterns on the hospital gown. This is wrong. This is all fucking wrong. Miguel should be biting back. Miguel should be responding _properly_. But… but Miguel was never really like that. Miguel struck first, yeah, but he never really continued a fight once he decided he was done with it. 

Hawk wants to calm down, he needs to calm down, because he can’t leave the conversation like this. Hawk needs Miguel. Doesn't think he could stand it if shit went bad with him too. His fists clench and unclench a couple of times and soon he stiffly moves to pick up the fallen chair. 

As he’s bending down to get it he sees a woman in a nurses uniform looking at him from across the hallway. She raises an eyebrow at him.

He rights the chair. The look in the woman’s dark eyes had promised consequences. After a second thought he closes the door. 

‘Look.’ Hawk doesn’t sit down again, just keeps his back straight and arms tight against his sides. ‘Demetri is a weak little bitch, okay? You’re not gonna be able to change my mind on that. But you and me—’ Hawk gestures between them. ‘—we’re tight. You’re my friend and it fucking sucks that you’re in here because I—’ He cuts himself of and it sort of feels like theres draw bridge closing in his throat and if he doesn’t rush to make it across he’s not gonna be able to say what he needs to say to make this right. ‘Ugh! I miss you, man! Fuck!’

He knows from the heat of his face that he’s probably as red as his hair, which means his scar is even more prominent, and he kind of wants to bolt out of the room but he forces himself to look at Miguel’s face and stand his ground because he’s not a fucking pussy and he should be able to say this sort of shit to his best friend without freaking out. Sensei Kreese encourages comradery, so this is basically training, anyway. 

Hawk watches the controlled rise and fall of Miguel’s chest. When Miguel finally looks up at him and he’s got this dejected look on his face like he’s trying to smile but not quite making it and it makes the embarrassment that Hawk is now barely holding at bay flare. 

He made Miguel feel like that. He was fucking did that. That fucking sucks. 

‘I miss you too, dude.’ Hawk’s heart, like, stops. ‘I miss everyone.’

Hawk sits back down. He’s still pent up, his knuckles are still itching, but he can deal with that later. 

‘I don’t want to fight with you. Not right now at least.’

Hawk doesn’t know what to fucking say. 

‘You know, I… I have to have surgery.’

Any remaining anger bleeds away at that.

‘What?’ He sounds wrecked, even to himself. 

‘I’ve gotta have surgery. For my back. Otherwise I won’t—’ Miguel’s started to cry, Hawk realises. ‘They dunno if I’m gonna walk.’

‘Fuck, dude.’

‘Yeah.’

Miguel cries quietly. When Hawk moves to get the box of tissues off the table to his right his shoes squeak against the linoleum. 

Hawk sits down at the side of Miguel’s bed, surprised at how comfortable it is, and wordlessly hands him the tissues. If Miguel notices him keep some for himself he doesn’t say anything. They’re quiet for a long while and Hawk doesn’t like it. 

‘This is so fucking fucked, dude.’ 

Miguel chokes out a laugh at that, but it’s way more watery than before. 

‘It’s gonna work though. You’re not gonna be stuck in a wheelchair. That’s just not gonna happen.’ Hawk says this in the way that he says ‘ _Yes, Sensei!_ ’. There’s no question, no doubt in his tone. It’s like he’s just made the decision for how it’s gonna go down. 

‘You reckon?’ Says Miguel. 

‘Definitely.’ Says Hawk.

They’re easy together again, after that. They don’t really forget about the arguing, about their differing ideologies or the fact that they still haven’t figured out how to reconcile them, but it’s like the recognition of the importance of Miguel’s next few days elevates them above that for a while. Hawk hadn’t come here with the intention of fighting anyway. Miguel is the last person he wants to be fighting with.

They stay together until the nurse who’d seen Hawk earlier kicks him out. He can’t help but take a final selfish look at Miguel before he goes. 

He has to wait in the carpark for his mom to get there and pick him up. He wishes he’d just been able to ride his bike, but his mom had insisted on giving him a lift and it was too much of a pain in the arse to argue with her, even if that seems to be all Hawk is good at these days. 

In the fifteen minutes it takes her to drive to the hospital, Hawk involuntarily does some thinking. 

It’s like this, right, it’s like his brain is a boxer and he’s tied to a chair in the middle of the ring, except instead of fists he’s getting hit with thoughts like—

— _the weight of Moon’s head resting against his lap in a dark room as the end credits of a shitty documentary about crystals plays._

And—

— _tight coiling anger as Moon and another girl make out across the room._

And—

— _Demetri making scathing comments as they watch Doctor Who together. Eli kind of wants to argue with him because yeah, the idea of the moon being an egg is really fucking dumb but the message wasn’t terrible? Also it’s Doctor Who, nothing in the show makes sense, that doesn’t mean it’s a bad show._

And—

— _simple encompassing awe as Miguel moves fluidly around Kyler and his buddies. A chorus in his head chants ‘I want to do that. I want to be that. I want to beat that.’_

And—

— _keen burning pain across his back, a crash as the glass falls and all he can see is Demetri’s face looking so fucking smug._

—and now Hawk has worked himself up into a fucking frenzy in the carpark of a hospital at six in the evening.

He needs to—to hit or be hit or yell at something or—

Across the way a bit is a line of those flexible plastic lane separators. The bright orange and reflective film beckon him like red to a bull. 

It's actually surprisingly satisfying to kick. If he does it up the top, it bounces back. If he does it at the bottom, it dents in and he can kick it from the other side to get it to straighten out again. He reckons he probably looks pretty dumb, like he’s throwing a tantrum, but at the same time he’s too far gone to care. He only stops when he hears the familiar growl of his mom’s old Honda. 

\-------

Moon, say’s Hawk’s mind. 

‘Shut the fuck up.’ Says Hawk, seriously considering hitting himself in the face with one of his AP Calculus textbooks just to get to sleep. 

Moon. Moon. Moon.

Hawk sighs and picks up his phone, reluctantly opening Instagram. 

He feels like a loser, just scrolling through her page. She’s so beautiful, though. At first he thought it was weird that she hadn’t blocked him, or deleted the pictures of them that she’d posted, but he supposed that she wasn’t really the type to do that. 

Moon wasn’t ashamed of the mistakes she’d made, she just knew how to grow from them. 

There's a tightness in his chest that he doesn’t like. He coughs and tries to ignore the fact that he kind of wants to cry. His finger hovers over her profile picture as he debates the consequences of her knowing that he looked at her story. She wouldn't talk to me anyway, he figures, and presses down.

He is decidedly fucking unhappy with what he finds. 

The picture is taken from a high angle, with Moon in the middle and smiling so widely and honestly that Hawk wants to cringe away. She’s surrounded by a group of other girls who all look just as happy as her. The caption is pink and in that twirly font that Hawk finds hard to read. 

‘car wash fun-raiser 2morrow for Miguel!!! me and the girls will be there!!! organised by @sammyrusso !!! msg me/her for more deets!!’

There’s a gif of bubbles, alternating between round and heart shaped, right at the end of the sentence.

With a frankly dramatic amount of malice, Hawk plugs his phone into charge and slams it against his bedside table. 

_Well,_ he thinks, lying flat on his back with his hands resting against his stomach in a parody of repose, _I don't have any other plans._

**Author's Note:**

> ...and I will pepper in the fact that Hawk has a little crush on Miguel...
> 
> Okay but for real here's a few things:
> 
> 1\. I am not American so I don't know shit about American culture, high-school, law etc. I have no fucking clue what an AP class is and I don't care to find out. The grammar in this story is fucked because I used Australian spelling for everything except the word 'Mom'. Do you know how many fucking times I wanted to write 'mate' in stead of 'dude' or 'man'? So fucking many, man. 
> 
> 2\. This is kinda a fix-it fic, not in the sense that I'm making everything better but in the sense that I'm fixing some minor issues I have with the text. Basically boils down to: A) Miguel and Hawk aren't friends enough B) Moon and Hawk aren't friends enough C) Hawk's 180 on the whole 'Cobra Kai or death' thing was just a tad too fast for me and C) Where are all the fucking homos lmao let's get some of us gays up in here
> 
> 3\. Okay so the fucking bendy traffic cone thing that Hawk kicks is one of [these](https://shop.barsec.com.au/product/1646-traffic-lane-separator-flexible-guide-post?categoryId=1651). Idfk if y'all have 'em in America but I've taken a swing at these things before and they're fun. 
> 
> 4\. Mmm this is barely edited so I might go back and fix some stuff later. I'm like 70% sure that scene with Miguel is rushed. I'm gonna have a crack at writing from Demetri's perspective for the next chapter but I'm not sure if I'll stick with it. Lemme know what y'all think, courteous criticism is always appreciated. 
> 
> And that's basically it! I'm on tumblr at [doublecheese](https://doublecheese.tumblr.com/) so feel free to find me there. Hope you had fun and tune in for the next chapter! :D


End file.
